The Distant Crown
Act I The air in the hydroponics bay tasted of copper and wet stone. Hassan Ibrahim checked the oxygen gauge on his wrist, the needle trembling slightly, a small mechanical stutter that matched the shake in his own hands. He was forty, a gene-tech sampler for the district, and his pension was due before the winter solstice. Lina needed the credits. The Gray Rot had taken the left side of her...
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